Decay. Even now, in your silent sleep
Are circumstances that would see you wish
For the ancient beauty of your roots, to
Hear the roaring of the gallant galleys
Upon a soft sea of salutation
Sound within your girth, though many miles far.
Aged - still firm; possessing a majesty
Over all others that dwell among you.
Our bards chant tunes that are best forgotten;
Their weary lyres strum forsaken strains
Of nothingness, that whisper to no ears
Of the sublime power that saw you rise
To be among the lowest lying clouds,
To hear the symphony of the lark
As it dwells in radiance upon a
Branch that cradles the Summer leaves
That with Autumn take their departure bold.
What does humanity possess but the
Broken strings and the much dissipated
Memories of time? No longer does the
Birdsong soothe or haunt, no longer does
Its echo resonate wonder or woe,
No longer do they gaze on pastures green
And feel the purity grace their solitudes.
Among the bowers just a loneliness
As the greenery's ignored. On the Seas
The tides conduct their deeds without an
Acknowledgement, for beauty is forgot
By those that seek their laments among lies -
The etchers of the scriptures of falsehoods.
© Cecil Field
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| Autumn Leaves - Sir John Everett Millais |
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